Memories
by silentstephi
Summary: Just a quick drabble - Shepard and Garrus have a bit more in common then either realized when it comes to remembering the dead.


She laughs. "That tickles you know."

Rumbling deep in his chest as he bends over to nuzzle her stomach, mandibles flaring to tickle her belly. "I like it. It's soft. Strange..." he runs his three fingered hand down her midsection, teasing its way lower until something catches his eye.

"Mmmm didn't see this the first time... what's this?"

"Hrm?" She lifts up her head up off the pillow to look down at where his attention is and her stomach tenses. He can see the subtle shift in her muscles since her skin isn't much camouflage for that kind of body reaction. She leans back on her elbows and he looks up at her eyes with concern. "Something I said?"

She sighs and relaxes slightly, leaning her head back on the headboard. "No. Just... a reminder."

He lifts a brow, trailing his talons over the ink in question. It looks like something you'd see on Jack: a twisted, twirling design that starts on her right hip and branching out across her pelvis to her left. Upon closer inspection, he thinks he can name the small red bulbs, roses, from some of the information he picked up in the vids. Something about human women and flowers, but he wasn't sure why she had them on her skin. It was so permanent. He knows Shepard is an orphan, so it wouldn't be a clan marking, would it? One of the flowers was larger than the rest and he could barely make out tiny scribbles inside. He saw the same scribbles on each of the thorns and smaller flowers.

His caresses over the tattoo elicit a delightful response from her skin. Tiny little bumps, she calls them 'goose bumps', rise and make her skin feel like it has some rough texture. Human skin is a mystery to him, so responsive to the smallest of stimuli. His talons lightly run over the tiny hairs rising into the air. Hard to imagine the flexible fringe on their heads also covers them from head to foot. More so in some places than others. It's... intriguing.

She's quiet. He knows she's lost in thought and so he waits, but she finally rouses enough to respond to the silent question. "A reminder of those I had to leave behind. I got inked the old fashion way. Needles and lots of alcohol. 'S a habit I picked up back on Earth."

Splaying his hand over her abdomen, he runs his fingers around in circles. A tightness in his gullet, he glances at his visor on the small table next to the bed. "Is it something you do often? I mean, other than some mercs we've come across and Jack, permanent body art isn't exactly prolific amongst humans..."

She shakes her head, bringing one of her hands down to caress his side, fingers trailing over his rough leathery skin and bumping over some of his plates. When she hits his hide it causes him to shiver. He understands her silence. Thoughts of the names on his visor swim across his mind. He shakes his head, clearing his own demons for the moment. He's curious about hers and how they may have more in common than they ever suspect.

Tilting his head to the side, he watches her and waits her out. She glances down at him and smiles softly, shaking her head, "No. It's not that it's seen as a bad thing. Everyone gets a tattoo some time in their life, especially now when it's so easy to remove them once whatever you got in your booze or drug induced state starts to bore or embarrass you. No, this method is painful. And permanent." Her voice goes quiet, "Well, it was supposed to be, originally."

She shifts slightly on the bed and he moves up to lay his side more firmly against hers. That silky smooth feel of her skin on him threatens to derail his train of thought but there's slickness, a sheen of sweat that's formed on her, and her face looks more thoughtful, almost distant. Swallowing down his rush of desire he waits her out, letting her talk at her own pace.

"After waking up at the med facility, and when I had five minutes to just think, I took stock. Checked out the new rig that was, well, me. Cerberus's scientists got mostly everything back, but they skimped on a few things. My old training injury that left my right ankle a bit weak, no more Akuze or Skyllian scars, and most of my ink was gone. I... well," she bites her lip now, but through her teeth she forces it out, "I went a little stupid, and freaked over not having my ink. It was there, in bits and pieces, in my mind. Only Ash's rose was still mostly whole..." He buries his nose into her hair, reliving a moment of his own. _Sitting in the Normandy's infirmary, his ever present standard issue Talon carving one name after another, their faces running across his vision. Never forgetting..._

Blinking away the fog of his own ghosts, he looks down at her hip where the large rose, looking a bit rougher and aged, sat on her hip. He squints, ah, yes, the squiggles turn into words, and he can make out the Gunnery chiefs name, _Ashley Williams_, curling around one of the petals. "That's some fine detail..." He rumbles into the side of her neck, nuzzling her shoulder and resting his cheek there. She lets go of the breathe she's holding, and with his hand on her ribs now, cheek and finger pads can just make out the increase in her heart beat.

"Fifty marines. Ash, and as soon as we hit the Citadel, I'll be adding a few more." He squeezes her gently, and she rubs her hand over his. "It's how I keep them here," she taps right above her left breast, where her heart is. "The pain just cauterizes the lesson. Soldiers die, no way around it. But that doesn't mean no one should keep their memory. And till the day I die..." her throat catches on that, but she soldiers on, "well, until the day they let me die, I'm going to make damn sure I won't forget."

Rumbling at her side, he rubs his chin on her shoulder, then leans up and gets a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looks down at her, "You can be awfully melodramatic when you want to be you know..." At that, she punches his arm, glancing off a rough plate, but the tension that sang through her body eases somewhat. "Damn it turian, I'm allowed to be. We just did the impossible, again. I'm going to milk this sucker for all it's worth."

His mandibles flutter out as he tries to keep a straight face; his brow rises as he leers at her, "Really now?"

"You filthy little..." She doesn't have to finish her sentence. He does for her.


End file.
